


The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Blown

by stardustedknuckles



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gen, It pretty much has to be, It's not crack but it is funny, Platonic blowjob, beau knows her way around a dick and caleb is being one, friends help each other out, non-pairing sexual acts, the destruction of heteronormative bullshit, vaguely polynein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:53:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26708551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustedknuckles/pseuds/stardustedknuckles
Summary: Caleb's unusually snappish and now he's hurt Jester's feelings. Beau's mad about it. He's mad about it. Beau offers (threatens?) to help, because they're friends and someone has to do it. Set somewhere early in the campaign, post-Molly but not by a whole lot.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast
Comments: 1
Kudos: 54





	The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Blown

**Author's Note:**

> Look, there is no room for shame among seven people sharing a 20-foot hut. There's an intimacy involved in sharing that much of your quiet moments with others, and sex is just another thing people do. Platonic sexual interactions 2kforever.
> 
> Title came from the same friend who said "I feel like the fantasy genre doesn't explore the potential for the inherent queerness that is eating and sleeping and just existing 24/7 with a bunch of other people" about six hours ago. 
> 
> So I did.
> 
> Also fuck him for thinking of a better title than I ever could.

Caleb stared up at Beau, mouth open in surprise. "Is this...a punishment?"

Beau rolled her eyes. "No, I leave that in your very capable hands. It's not anything. You've just been awful the last couple of weeks." He considered. She wasn't wrong - even he'd noticed after what just happened. Beau continued, gesturing broadly behind her in the vague direction of the others outside the door she'd closed and was now in front of. "Everyone else has found time to whack off," she said, "and you hate yourself too much - I know you do, shut up - so I'm telling you to just leave it to me and you can chill a bit before you go apologize."

A long moment passed as Caleb blinked owlishly at her. "I'm absolutely appalled by your logic."

She shrugged. "You see it though. You have to."

"Unfortunately."

Beau sighed. "Look man, obviously I can't make you. Well I could, but I'm not going to. And believe me, it's almost worth the years it would take to teach you to fight just so we could do that instead, but we're here now and you can't take a hit."

"I could," he said defensively. Beau glared at him. He looked away. "I would need healing afterward though," he mumbled.

"Yup, and one cleric's tapped and the other is in her room crying because you can't figure your shit out, so."

He winced, ran a hand through his hair. He allowed himself the smallest of peeks into the closed box that was his life before, when the three of them traded sexual favors for everything from communication to begging off chores. It hurt, because it always hurt, but it allowed him to take a deep breath as he closed the lid again on the memory and answered. "Okay."

She seemed to relax a bit. "Good." An awkward moment stretched, and then she kicked his foot with hers. "Go on."

Caleb sighed and reached for his waistband to undo the lacing. He glanced up at her. "We are not talking about this, yes?"

Beau scoffed. "You couldn't pay me to admit it." He was a little surprised to find the remark stung, and it must have showed on his face because Beau kept talking for what he was certain was his benefit. "It's not the dick," she explained. "I've had plenty of one-night stands with fucking hot women who had 'em. Just." She huffed. "Everyone's got this weird hangup about touching each other and what it means and I don't trust 'em to understand. But we barely like each other and that makes this real easy, potentially."

His mouth actually quirked at that. "You really are doing this to be nice," he mused.

Her brow furrowed. "Shut up and get your dick out. And figure out if you're laying down or what."

He complied, working a little faster at his waistband. "Do you ah, have a preference?" he asked.

"If I did I would've led with that."

Caleb thought for a moment. "I'll lie down. Harder to make eye contact."

Beau tensed. "If you're thinking about eye contact, you've got this all wrong, man. It's not like that."

"I know, Beauregard," Caleb said quickly. "I'm not talking about not looking you in the eye later, I'm talking about…" he gestured helplessly. "You are offering this because there is no risk of it being anything more than it is. I am just trying to remove the part of the process where you might ah…get to know me a bit more than you're asking for."

Her shoulders smoothed. "I'm not gonna tease you if you cry," she said. "Much."

"It is a possibility."

She flopped next to him and gestured for him to hurry up. "If you cry it just means that stick in your ass shook loose, which is the point." She rolled her eyes when his skeptical look didn't change. "I promise not to hug you and say nice things if you do."

Caleb opened his mouth and closed it again. He couldn't really argue with how well she'd read him, and he did still feel guilty about the unshed tears in Jester's eyes as she'd turned and fled to the room she was sharing with Beau and Yasha. He pushed his pants down a bit and hesitated once more. "The others?"

"Drinking or with Jester. This ain't my first deal, man, I got you covered."

He bit his lip. "I trust you." And he did, which was weirder than any of all this.

Beau was unmoved. "I am about to suck your dick, dude, I'd fuckin' hope so."

He winced. "Is that a requirement?"

Beau actually grinned at him then. "Faster than just the hand. Five minutes or fifteen, your call."

"I thought you said you were good at this."

Her eyes flashed, but Caleb found that sitting there with his dick literally in his hand tended to put other anxieties in perspective.

"Two for people who aren't going to need buffer time to sort the self-loathing bullshit. Prove me wrong." She put her hand on his chest and pushed him backwards with an unyielding but surprisingly non-forceful shove.

Gods _verdammt_ , she really did have his number. "Fine." He covered his eyes and took a few deep breaths, then moved his hands back down to his sides. "Okay," he said to the ceiling.

He knew she was right about the self-loathing as soon as her hand touched him, clinical and not at all as abrasive as her words. Shame bubbled up in him at how quickly his body responded - he'd had a rough idea of how much he probably needed the release, of course, but this was ridiculous.

He forced himself to relax, and after a few seconds he didn't have to work so hard at it. Strangely, it was the knowledge that this wasn't any complicated thing that kept him from taking it back and bolting. Well. Complicated, yes, but no more so than any of this had been so far. The concept of friends, people who looked out for him, was already weird. That one of them should be doing…whatever that just was, with her fingers, seemed no stranger when he thought about it. He twitched involuntarily and inhaled sharply.

"I could feel you overthinking shit from here," Beau said from out of his field of vision. "Calm down."

One of his hands let go of the sheets to form a shaky thumbs up, and Beau snorted with an eye roll he didn't have to see to perceive before her mouth found him, and oh. She hadn't been bluffing. It was still awkward, but he found he'd lost most of the ability to care, and up until five seconds ago he'd been pretty sure that was impossible.

She took him apart expertly, pressing all of his buttons with a complete lack of pity or kindness that the part of his brain not churning out profanities in Zemnian was deeply grateful for. He tried to warn her as the tide rushed up, but he needn't have bothered -- Beau pulled away and shoved the corner of his sheet over his lap just in time to keep him from making a mess of his pants as everything stretched taut inside him finally snapped.

His throat felt like he'd made a noise when he was aware enough again to feel it. He tried not to think too hard about it. He reached up to touch his face -- yep. He was crying. He was also too fucked-out to care, which was in itself a relief as he lay there catching his breath.

A shadow passed over his face and then a damp rag landed unceremoniously over his eyes a second later. He felt Beau shift off the bed and heard the sound of a good stretch and a sigh.

"You good, dude?"

He was, actually. "Ja."

She patted his stomach just close enough to his dick to make him jump, and she heard her exhale sharply in amusement. "Bar's open another couple hours if you feel like actually drinking tonight. I'll see if I can coax Jester out with us."

Caleb heard the door open. "Wait." He dragged the rag quickly over his eyes and sat up just enough to catch sight of Beau halfway out of it already. He tried to make his brain work, but it resisted him.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I charge for round two."

He felt a surge of annoyance pull his thoughts together. "Nevermind. Go fuck yourself."

She cackled as the door closed behind her. He heard the "you're welcome" she tossed over her shoulder and smiled in spite of himself before getting quickly dressed again. 11 minutes had elapsed since he'd stormed up the stairs; even Beau couldn't keep Nott away for much more than that, and he had less than no desire to add this to her ammunition pile of things to tease him about.

But, he thought as he rolled his shoulders and headed for the door, it was nice to think that maybe he could deal with having friends after all.

He nearly ran into Nott as he slipped out of his room, and he thanked every god he could think of and a few of the ones he couldn’t for good measure.

"Caleb! Are you alright?"

He reached down and ruffled Nott's hood fondly. "Ja," he said. "Just had to take a moment and ah, 'sort my shit, as it were." He pressed on when Nott squinted at him. "I was going to go down and join the others for a drink, maybe apologize to Jester if she's down there."

"She was coming back down as I came up," Nott confirmed. She took his offered hand and they walked together as she whispered, "if you don't want to apologize, I can back you up."

He squeezed her hand and smiled again, pushing away the thought of Beau's "I told you so" and replying, "Nein. It is what friends do, and I will do it."

Nott shrugged as they drew close to the table where Beau and Jester sat shoulder to shoulder.

"Caleb's decided to drink now," Nott announced.

Beau snorted. "Cool, he owes us both a round for being a dick."

He looked anxiously to Jester. Jester didn't look at him. "Ja," he said. "And an apology, I think."

Her head snapped up. "Really?"

He blinked. "Ja, it is what friends do when one has wronged the other, and I was very unkind. I am sorry."

She beamed at him. "I forgive you, Cay-leb." She paused and held up a finger, frowning in concentration. He flicked his eyes to Beau in confusion, which deepened as he watched her go from similarly puzzled to a dawning look of horror. She picked up her drink and drained it as Jester's face cleared. She reached across and smiled at him as she patted his arm. "I'm glad you got out some of that tension. It wasn't good for you."

He took it back, watching Beau's drink come back out of her nose and feeling Nott tug adamantly on his hand as his ears rang. Friends were the worst.

**Author's Note:**

> "Tieflings have an enhanced sense of smell" is a very good headcanon.


End file.
